


ACHILLES, COME DOWN!

by notaweeb



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, If We Were Villains - M.L. Rio, Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Angst, Blood, Dark Academia, F/M, Homoeroticism, Intimacy, M/M, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Poetry, Sexual Tension, and really messy, inspired by if we were villains, inspired by the secret history, s o much sexual tension, this is just a really da story ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaweeb/pseuds/notaweeb
Summary: a short, angsty, bloody, murder-y and pretty gay dark academia story inspired heavily by "the secret history" and "if we were villains". probably just a couple of chapters, maybe ten.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	1. chapter i.

for the second time since the beginning of school year did orion find himself out of the dormitory in the dead of the night and seated on a secluded bench, tucked away in between the trees that were bare from the frosts, with a thin whisper of mist extending across the lawn. the asphalted paths ran like drops of rain on a car window across the entirety of the campus, though it was no surprise to find them completely deserted on that particularly frosty, silent night. the lamp posts had been switched off, offering orion a peculiar sense of comfort - he did not wish to be seen, did not wish to be noticed by pairs of curious eyes, did not wish to exist in the mind of another. what he wished was something a lot more complex. a whisp of breeze prickled orion's bare face, fluttered through his hair and he gave one end of the wide scarf wrapped sloppily around his neck a sharp tug, cursing himself in his thoughts for not bothering to put on a damned hat.

the eight am lecture that awaited him the morning was like an unwanted guest, a constant whisper in the back of his head, making its presence known every now so often as the guilt kept knocking on his conscience. he ought to have been tucked in his bed. in his soft, soft bed between the tangled sheets with, perhaps, a single candle lit on the nightstand and droplets of rain occosionally splattering against his dorm room window instead of his face. _but no_. orion was out of his bed, out of his room, out of the dormitory, with the wind blowing right through him like the howl of a wolf piercing through a silent night.

every so often did he glance over his own shoulder or scan the surroundings, almost anticipating for someone to be standing somewhere in the distance, staring at him, confused as to why on earth would a student be out of his bed at such ungodly hours. and despite trying so very hard to come up with some sort of original excuse for his late-night venture, there was only one that would _truly_ sound believable enough - i couldn't sleep. which was, in all honesty, not a lie. sleep had been scarce for him the last few weeks, because every time he was about to drift off into deep, sweet, peaceful slumber - _there it was again_.

and again. and again. again. again. _again_.

and it would be all he saw throughout the entire night. the late night telephone-call. the agonizingly silent carride to victor's country house. the heap of jonas' dead body at the bottom of the blood-stained stairs. the instant panic. the quarrel between victor and kassandra. what happened after was a blur of events, a hazy recollection of the body being stuffed into the front seat of jonas' own car and pushed off the edge of a particularly high cliff victor's country house had been built on. 

" _saw_ " would be quite a nice way to put it. he _relived_ it - every second of the four hours that it took for him to leave and get back to his dorm - and whatever ghastly incidents stood in between. it felt like a fever dream that could not be chased into the bottom of a bottle of liquor or between papers upon papers of schoolwork. it did not feel real, and sometimes he doubted if it was. on such nights, he would pretend it was naught but a bad dream. _a nightmare_. on such nights, he could almost get an hour or two of solid sleep, until his own mind sent him swirling back into what could aswell be called - **hell**. 

" _orion_."

the sound of a familiar voice shattered the heavy silence that had settled upon the lawn of the campus and orion's eyes snapped from his own frost-bitten hands curled into fists on his lap to the approaching silouetthe of maxton, almost identically engulfed by his heavy, black coat. he was the sole reason orion found himelf out of the comfort and security of his dorm room that night, but was he taken by surprise by maxton's arrival. perhaps, a part of him had been hoping he would not show up - he did not want to face him, see him, talk to him. and quite frankly, each word exchanged with maxton - or any of that, for that matter - felt like a boulder on his shoulders or an anchor chained around his neck, relentlessly dragging him down into the deepest pits of the ocean. but he was chained to them as much as he was to that damned anchor. perhaps, for the rest of his life.

"you're late." mumbled orion.

"that's chilly, even of you."

"i've been sitting here for ages."

"i lost track of time." there was an apologetic smile in maxton's voice.

"are we going or what?"

the interaction was brief and only minutes later did they find themselves in maxton's car, on their way to none other but the murder scene itself - victor's country house. orion had not been back since _that night_ and he doubted maxton had had any business there, either. and almost as if he had been reading orion's mind, did he sigh: "i went back a couple of days ago. victor wasn't home. don't know where he keeps the front door key." his eyes remained on the road as he spoke, as did orion's. he let the silence stretch on for too long, before saying, "well. that's why _i'm_ here, aren't i?". 

"thank you, orion. really. i'd hate to bother you at such late hours."

"it's nearly morning."

"i truly am sorry." he said, before glancing at orion and reaching over to pat his knee in a joyful manner. "but it's not like you could sleep anyway, right? i couldn't. would have to drink myself to coma to get some real rest."

maxton's ability to remain at least somewhat unbothered in gloomy situations had always amazed and bothered orion. "you, too?"

"yeah."

"so, why are we going back there, anyway? what did you leave behind?"

maxton seemed to hesitate for a moment, before answering. "you'll see."

"maxton."

"it's fine. you'll see. 


	2. chapter ii.

victor's country house was another name for a towering nineteenth century mansion, tucked away behind a high locked gate with a garden stretching wide around it, where the molchanov family spent their winters - located beneficially close to the school campus, so that victor didn't have to spend his nights at a dorm room. a steep stone driveway lined with bare crape myrtle trees bathing in the headlights of the car led from the street to front of the mansion, where it branched into two roads, up to the front porch. it's not that the building hadn't always carried an air of eeriness about it, but the ghastly events that had only recently taken place in front of the very mansion gave it an even more disturbing appeal.

orion precisely remembered bringing a girl to the molhanovs' country house to flaunt with the wealth of a friend - of course, after receiving victor's premission and word that nobody would be there when they arrived. having downed a pleasant amount of liquor and found themselves a comfortable spot on one of the living room sofas, they never quite heard maxton come in nor enter the room. only when she began to screech in terror in a disturbingly high-pitched voice, pointing at the broad doorway towards an unmoving silouetthe, did maxton make his presence known with anxious apologies and rushed explanations. certainly, the alcohol in his system must have made the experience far more frightening than it truly was, as it left a bad taste in orion's mouth and an everlasting aversion towards the place.

the building loomed before them. everything looked exactly as they had left it - neat and clean, as if nothing had ever happened. maxton shut off the engine and an uncanny silence fell upon them, both busy staring at the towering building - or to be exact, the widespread set of stairs that led to a low, balcony-like platform that ran the length of the house. a couple of weeks ago, this is where jonas had laid - liveless and unmoving at the bottom of the stairs with a puddle of blood spreading across the cobblestone from beneath his head like an angel's halo of some sort. it had been hard for orion to convince himself he wasn't simply passed out from a night spent at a bar gone a bit too far. 

maxton took a deep breath and sighed loudly, before looking over at orion and jerking his chin towards the mansion, "shall we?". orion was the first one to step out of the car and head for the stairs, with maxton close behind - though pretending to be busy by fumbling in his pockets for what orion assumed to be a pack of cigarettes. every smoker in the group had always held a strong preference for cigars - except for maxton, though he was oftentimes too polite to refuse when offered one.

" i was expecting him to be here, still. " he said, yanking orion's gaze from the gray-ish stairs to maxton's.

" what? "

" you know, jonas. it's just .. sometimes i can barely remember what happened after i came outside and saw him right here, just laying. it's like it never happened, like i just blacked out and woke up from a bad dream and went on with my life. but sometimes it all crashes into me, all at once, and .. it's this feeling of being stuck in freezing cold water under a layer of ice. i can't breathe, i can't think, i just keep struggling and gasping for air that isn't there.".

orion tried to mask his bafflement from the unexpected confession with silence, though what bothered him the most was that maxton had perfectly described orion's own torment, the hell he had been going through almost every day since that night. it was difficult to even consider the fact that everyone else that had been there was also suffering, just like orion, just like maxton. " yeah. " he said finally, dryly, and looked away towards the building. " it is hard. ".

another beat of silence ticked by, before maxton spoke up once again, " so, let's just get this over with, right? the key? ".

that fateful night with the girl and maxton was the sole reason for why orion was the only one from the group ( besides victor himself, of course ) that knew the hidden location of the key that opened the front door of the molchanov's country house. whatever they kept in there must have been quite valuable, as victor had always been terribly strict with the whole thing, never revealing the hidden spot. until he did - exclusively to orion, after orion gave his word not to reveal it to the rest of them. his excuses for not yet having come up with a new hiding place for the key after exposing it to one of them, seemed to always fall in this gray area of having enough trust in orion not to go prowling about in someone else's home. prior the incident, orion found himself battling the urge to pay the mansion a secret visit. _now?_ he couldn't even bring himself to think about it.

"right. the key." he said, before motioning maxton to turn around. he seemed mildly, almost humorously disgruntled by it, but spun around regardless and placed an arm over his eyes. " oh, come on. this is the least of our worries. " orion could hear a smile in his voice as he approached one of the gothic-style windows with a small crest above the upper cornice. there was a small gap behind the sash frame, invisible to those were are not aware of it, with a silver key hidden inside for which orion had to twist his arm and curl and wiggle his fingers to reach.

the front doors were high and solid and heavy, the frost-covered doorknob creaky as, having inserted and turned the key, he twisted it open. a jolt of terror raked through orion - what if someone was there? the idea didn't hold much merit as they would have needed the key to enter - and he abandoned the thought, slowly pushing one of the wideset doors open, maxton standing behind him. the silence was ghastly and orion could quite clearly hear his own heartbeat in his ears - perhaps maxton could hear it too.

" alright, " he said decidingly, staring into the vast darkness that greeted them, hoping to have his eyes adjust to the lack of light before entering. " where is it? that you need? ".

maxton shuffled and moved past orion, shoulder brushing against shoulder, as he stepped slowly but surely into nothingness. " in there. come on, i'm not going by myself. ".

and orion went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh there ! took me 10 years but here it is chapter two !! ik they havent made much progress since the beginning of the first ep djshdj but i sort of like the slow pace so there u go ?? hope u like it ! also no i didnt proof-read bc 1. we die like men here and 2. i get too critical of my own writing n might end up not publishing it lmao

**Author's Note:**

> well. this took more time than expected, considering how trashy and messy this is. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy it ! most of the events are obviously inspired by the secret history - donna tartt and if we were villains - m. l. rio. and, of course, the song achilles come down - gang of youths.


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